


Right Here

by DarkDrabblings



Series: Tumblr Requests [12]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dark!Jack, F/M, Kidnapping, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Slight mentions of noncon, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDrabblings/pseuds/DarkDrabblings
Summary: Most people would have been over the moon if the fantastic Strike Commander happened to notice them.Most people didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.





	Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! Got a spicy Tumblr request for y'all. Also, there is no real smut in this fic, maybe a slight mention or two, because the requestor asked for no sex.
> 
> However, there's plenty of dark fluff. So eat that shit up, babes. 
> 
> insert sunglassesemoji.jpg here.

Most people would have been over the moon if the fantastic Strike Commander happened to notice them. 

Most people didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. 

You didn’t ask for this. Ask to be handpicked by the Jack Morrison himself for specialized training. You were so quick to agree, utterly blind to the darkness that laid just below the surface of the handsome Commander until it was too late. By then, you were entirely at his mercy with no way out. 

He was sadistic, vindictive, and above all else he was kind. 

You had lost count of how many times he had broken you, only to immediately gather your sobbing form into his arms with sweet lies and false promises that would never last. If you didn’t forgive him then and there, he’d start over from the beginning. Vulgar words and harsh stings affecting both your body and your mind over and over until you were completely his. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he’d often say while stitching a wound that had been cut too deep when you struggled. “You’ve lasted longer than the others.” 

You had quickly learned not to ask about what happened to the others. Instead, you’d answer Jack with a with soft, “Thank you,” and ignore the small flip that your stomach would do whenever he praised you. 

No matter how often his blue eyes would light up when you came undone below him or how gentle his voice would sound when calming you down, you knew his feelings were fake. They were more or less there to keep you strung along; only giving you enough to keep you willing and compliant. He didn’t love you as much as he thought of hurting you.

Finally, there came a day when the Commander took you off the field. The injury that you had sustained wasn’t too serious, but it was too close for his liking. He had invested far too much time just to watch you die from your incompetence. So, while you recovered in the infirmary and without your approval, he moved your things into his suite.

There was no one you could turn to for help. Jack either had everyone either fooled or under his control. So you were forced to comply once again and live with the monster who now had you entirely under his control. That was when you began to fight back. You had gotten your second wind; finally having grown tired of his games and took every chance you got to escape. 

Jack’s increasing punishments did almost nothing to slow down your tantrums when he’d stop you. So, he got smarter; instead of physical punishments, he’d leave you locked in the small hallway closet, letting you out to use the restroom only when he came home from his breaks. If you talked back to him, there would be no dinner. The worse would be when he’d hold you close while you cried, humming you an old country song until you fell asleep.

After some time, his methods began to work. Slowly but surely he was wearing you down once again, watching with a sadistic smile while you gradually became more dependent on him. And although you both knew that this fight was far from over, he was glad to know you weren’t as easy to break as he thought.

* * *

It had been such a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky and the fresh early Spring air felt terrific on your skin as it blew through the barred windows. You would have liked to go outside and run like you used to. Instead, here you were, laying on the couch and reading after spending another day doing the Commander’s chores like some live-in maid. At some point you had begun to doze off, enjoying the silence that came whenever Jack went to work when you heard the familiar click and hiss of the door sliding open, announcing the arrival of your capture.

“Honey, I’m home,” came his rough voice from just a few feet away. Sitting up, you didn’t bother trying to hide the snarl on your face as you turned to look at him. You couldn’t handle another evening of pretending to be happy that you’re locked away as if this is something that normal healthy couples do. He stared back, removing his gloves painstakingly slow, smiling as if the cameras were watching. 

They probably were. You wouldn’t put it past the Commander to film you while he was away. 

“Guess I thought it would be too much for a simple ‘welcome back,’ huh,” he says, eyes stalking you like they prey you were as you slowly stood. Your eyes dart to the bedroom and back to him while he takes off his coat and chest piece, leaving him in his skin-tight black undershirt. Your entire body is set to run. However, the Strike Commander is already two steps ahead of you, quickly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder when you try to dash for it. 

Kicking and screaming, you beat your fists on his back, demanding that he put you down. And to your surprise, he does, dumping you unceremoniously back onto the couch when he does so. You land with a grunt, immediately trying to get back up, but Jack quickly pins you back down. 

“Easy, baby, easy,” he says, straddling your legs and placing both hands next to your face, while you squirm underneath his heavy frame. 

You scream at him to let you go, that you weren’t some toy, and throw every insult you could think of while he continues to smile down at you. You can barely make out the blue with how wide his irises are, no different than a lion who’s caught themselves a meal. A warm hand comes to cradle your face, thumb tracing the outline of your lips and that’s all it takes for your resolve to break and fresh, hot tears join your struggle. 

“I’m right here, baby girl,” Jack coos, his normally deep voice is soothing as he rests his head into the crook of your neck. “You’re okay.” His thin black shirt does nothing to mask the heat that his body is putting out and you place your hands on his broad shoulders trying to put some distance between the two of you. 

However, with both your hands currently occupied, he takes the opportunity to move his arms around you, and pin you even closer to his body. “Hey, what’s going on with you today?” He asks between feathered kisses that trail from your neck to cheek. “You were doing so good before.” 

You move your head, trying to shake away the feeling of stubble on your face, and feel his lips turn into a frown. 

Jack holds you tighter and shifts positions so that you’re now trapped between the back pillows and his chest, his chin now resting atop your head. Even with how close he is, your body still has room to shake as you continue crying. “It’s okay. I know you missed me.”

“I didn’t,” you say between clenched teeth, making him laugh at the sound of your distress. The deep sound resonates through your body, and you don’t like the way it makes you feel. “It’s not funny.” When you try and wiggle your legs from between his, he only clamps down harder on them. 

“You know what always makes you feel better,” He says, moving to press you closer between the couch and him.

“Freedom?” Your snarky response makes him dig the tips of his fingers into your skin. You bury your face into his chest to sob as he increases pressure to add more bruises to your body. 

“You don’t get to speak that way to me. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir!” You quickly reply, but he keeps his digits buried into your soft flesh, “I’m sorry.”

His hold loosens, and you let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. “That’s more like it.” 

“Sorry,” you say again, softer this time as you find yourself uselessly begin to cry again.

“Look at me,” he orders, making your entire body tense up as you slowly turn your head up towards him. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”

Soft baby blue eyes stare back into yours. Trying to read you, trying to find something that you both know isn’t there. “It’s okay,” he says again and presses his lips to your forehead. “You’re okay.” He dips his head to nuzzle his nose against yours. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He swallows your whimpers when your lips finally meet.

The emotions fake from both sides, but you can’t help trying to press even closer to him when he pulls away. 

Jack’s hand is warm as it rubs up and down your back and his voice has your eyes slowly begin to flutter shut as starts up on another cheesy country song. The tune is old and familiar. You’re sure he’s sung it before. But you don’t care; you’re far too mentally and physically exhausted from your tantrum to give a damn. 

_So hard times or easy times, what do I care,_  
There's nothing I’d change if I could.  
The tears and the laughter are things that we share,  
Your hand in mine makes all times good. 

You fall asleep quickly, his voice twisting your dreams into nightmares. Still, he holds onto you.

_A flower not fading nor falling apart,_  
You’re my harbor in life’s restless storm.  
Rose of my heart. 

_Rose of my heart._

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please don't hesitate to check out my other sinful writing on my Tumblr!
> 
> ****  
> 


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